


Happy Ending

by buhnebeest



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Canon Disabled Character, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buhnebeest/pseuds/buhnebeest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is that what they teach you at Steroid School?” Joker squeezed his eyes shut and panted, gripping tight on the rim of the massage table until his knuckles creaked ominously. “Because I can tell you right now – ah fuck – you should… <em>ah</em>… ask for a refund.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhoenixInTheNight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixInTheNight/gifts).



“Oh, you horrible motherfucking gigantic— _fucker_.”

“Now now, Flyboy, you know the drill.” Vega tutted, casually pretending he wasn't currently trying to twist Joker’s leg into a pretzel shape. “No pain, no gain.”

“Is that what they teach you at Steroid School?” Joker squeezed his eyes shut and panted, gripping tight on the rim of the massage table until his knuckles creaked ominously. “Because I can tell you right now – ah fuck – you should… _ah_ … ask for a refund.”

Vega laughed and carefully brought his leg back down to its natural slightly crooked horizontal position, where it shook pathetically, muscles crying for mercy. Vega rubbed his big hands over his calf, up up up to his thigh, a warm, even pressure. Joker would maybe, if anyone cared enough to torture him over it, admit to it being a contender for the best fucking feeling he’d ever felt: pain followed by soothing relief; being touched by someone who knew what they were doing. 

Vega was fond of extolling endlessly on the virtues of adrenaline and endorphins or whatever – another classic from Steroid School – and Joker had to grudgingly admit he did actually feel a rush of something; something similar to the thrill of getting in the Normandy’s pilot’s seat for the first time. 

“There it is,” Vega murmured. Joker opened his eyes – they had closed at some point – to see him smiling gently, still petting his leg with slow hypnotic drags of his hands. 

“Where’s what?” he mumbled, tongue oddly thick in his mouth.

“You’re relaxing, Flyboy.”

Joker sighed. 

So he had a boner, sue him. There was a lot of stimulus going on right now, all right, and Joker had to contend with a lot of down time with his own right hand usually, which was the least risky way of getting off, and still often ended with a sprained wrist. 

Vega probably had the opposite problem, where he sprained his dick from jerking it too hard with his gigantic arm. 

“So are you going full service massage parlor?” Joker asked, drudging up a grin. His cheeks heated stupidly, because he could imagine it suddenly, viscerally. It really had been a long fucking time, and Vega was pretty hot for a Jarhead. Hell, he even had boobs, if you squinted. 

Vega chuckled quietly. “If you want a happy ending, all you gotta do is ask, Joker.” 

Joker stared up at him. Vega looked calmly unflappable, like he offered to jerk people off all the time. Marines, man. Fucking Marines. 

“I think I saw this in a porn vid once,” Joker muttered lamely, and nodded. Vega grinned and slowly trailed his hands up Joker’s calves, knees, thighs, only stopping when his fingertips hit the edge of the towel slung over his waist. 

And stroking back down. 

“Oh, come on!” Joker said, eyes flying open. 

“Happy _ending_ ,” Vega explained serenely, digging his thumb in the arch of Joker’s foot. “I’m not done.” 

The next twenty minutes were fucking torture. 

***** 

Now that the idea was in his head he was doubly aware of what Vega’s hands were doing, which was, tragically, anything but touching his dick. Instead, there was the constant push and pull of his muscles being kneaded into functionality, _pain-relief, pain-relief_ , and fuck, if Joker got stuck with some kind of complicated fetish out of this he was going to take a page from Javik’s book and throw all Vega’s protein shakes out the fucking airlock. 

“Aw, you can take it, Flyboy,” Vega crooned, after Joker called him an evil sadistic Action Man knock-off. “I’ll reward you good, no? Just a little longer.”

Joker glared, first at Vega, then at his dick. 

Goddamn it. 

“Fine.” 

Vega hummed approvingly. And pressed his thumbs in Joker’s thigh. 

***** 

Joker was pretty sure he’d never been this pain-free before in his life, at least not without the involvement of a team of fancy doctors and some heavy-duty drugs. His skin was tingling and his limbs were putty; he’d put money on the suggestion that he’d been turned into a marshmallow. 

He heard the quiet _snick_ of the bottle of oil Vega had been using, a fresh wave of lavender hitting his nose. Joker blinked his eyes open woozily. 

Vega winked at him, rubbing his shiny palms together. “I don’t know if you’re even gonna make it through, Flyboy. You look about ready to drop.”

“Muh,” Joker said. 

Vega chuckled and tugged the towel away. Joker shivered at the gust of cold air over his dick, lips parting on a noise he’d never heard himself make before. 

“Sensitive, huh?” Vega murmured. He wrapped his oil-slick hand around Joker’s dick, squeezing lightly, then rubbed his thumb over his cockhead until he leaked a blurt of precome over his fingers. 

“Fuh-uh-uck,” Joker moaned, hips bucking weakly. 

Vega tutted and laid his hand on his belly, holding him down. “Lie still, now, don’t hurt yourself. I don’t wanna have to cart you off to Chakwas like this.” 

“ _Fuck—_ ”

Vega jacked him steadily, with a twist to his wrist that would break Joker’s forearm should he dare attempt it. It hit home now how huge Vega’s hands actually were – really fucking huge – plus he had those gun calluses that were slowly but surely turning his insides to mush. It felt so fucking good, and honestly Joker’d been ready to pop for what felt like ages now; it didn’t take long at all before he was coming, pleasure rolling over him in waves, until his body felt like an actual nice place to be for a while. 

“Thanks,” Joker sighed, eyes fluttering shut. 

“No problem, Flyboy.”

Joker was barely awake through Vega wiping him clean with the towel, or Vega putting a blanket over him, which was somehow both a little sappy and really fucking necessary, because Joker couldn't have gotten up to leave if his life depended on it. He had the vague impression of Vega laughing and patting his foot amicably, and then it was lights out; naptime. 

Turned out Steroid School wasn’t all bad.


End file.
